


unfinished shinee scraps

by xjooheonx (jooheon)



Category: SHINee
Genre: Gen, M/M, Unfinished, hence i now release these into the ether, i'm still trash and i still have a lot of feelings about shinee, summary/pairings in chapter notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 10:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12910461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jooheon/pseuds/xjooheonx
Summary: Old scrapped WIPs/drabbles that I'm compiling here because they would otherwise never see the light of day.





	1. untitled (gen, taem-centric)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was something that just popped into my head one day. I think it would have eventually become a taekai.
> 
> ~813 words, teen for language only.

kibum is taemin’s first gay friend. 

“i fucking knew it,” jonghyun mutters under his breath. minho is still waving around the evidence – a USB drive containing some rather explicit materials – and blustering about _what the hell is this and why didn’t you tell us earlier?!_

“obviously because i knew how you’d react,” kibum says, unruffled. his arms are crossed, his expression calm. “which is to say, poorly.”

“we wouldn’t judge you for your sexuality,” jinki says, though he looks a little on edge. that might just be because minho refuses to calm down, though. “it doesn’t change who you are as a person.”

“i’m glad to hear you can grasp that, hyung,” kibum says. he narrows his eyes at minho. “you all _can_ grasp that, yes?”

“but,” minho sputters, still gesturing with the USB. “but, kibum. you – you can’t just not tell us this. it’s important information – ”

“why, so you can protect yourself from getting perved on in the dressing room?” kibum scoffs. “spare me, choi, i’d rather fuck a cactus than any of you at this point. no offense.”

minho looks mightily offended, but he powers through: “that’s not why. i meant because it’s a part of who you are and we’re _supposed_ to be friends. do you not trust us?”

kibum blanches a little at that, but he just says coolly, “i trust you.”

taemin thinks: _of course he does. why else would he leave that USB where minho would find it?_

after the initial fuss, kibum’s gayness doesn’t come up much, other than minho occasionally demanding to know why kibum doesn’t think he’s fuckable. 

(“i never said you weren’t fuckable,” kibum says exasperatedly, “i said i’d never fuck you. there’s a difference.”)

partially, taemin thinks, they don’t ever talk about it because what’s there to talk about? kibum’s gay, it’s just a fact. but partially, he also has a feeling that kibum wants to keep his love life to himself, wants to guard it closely. to let it be one of the few things that’s his own and no one else’s. there’s also the fact that they’re idols, and their love lives in general are, by necessity, very much under wraps. 

at one point, on a chat show, kibum comes very, very close to dropping a revealing hint about jonghyun’s ex-girlfriend, one that had been successfully kept secret. with the cameras trained on him, jonghyun’s eyes go wide and his strained smile says: _one more word and there will be blood._

“you have an unfair advantage,” jonghyun complains when they’re back in the van afterward. “you know everything about us and never tell us anything about you.”

“if people found out about her, you’d have a mini-scandal,” kibum retorts. “if people found out about mine, my career would be over.”

“you really don’t trust us,” minho says sulkily.

“choi minho,” kibum says. “it’s not that i don’t trust you. it’s just that i _know_ you. and i know if i tell you, you won’t be able to keep it to yourself. and one way or another it’ll get leaked, and then my entire life will be in shambles. is that what you want?”

“what if your boyfriend told?” taemin ventures.

“first of all, i do not have a boyfriend at this time. do not get me twisted,” kibum says primly. “second of all, none of my exes would dare. they’d be just as fucked.”

the other four exchange glances. 

“so they’re all celebrities,” jinki says. a hunch that they all had, but kibum had never explicitly confirmed it until now.

“i’ll only date someone who has as much to lose as i do,” kibum says. 

“you only date gay male celebrities who are in the closet,” taemin muses. “not a big pool, is it?”

“oh, you’d be surprised,” kibum says, looking smug.

“if they’re in the closet, how do you even know they’re gay?” minho asks. 

“you do know who you’re talking to, right?” kibum says, tossing his head.

minho rolls his eyes. “what, shinee’s kim kibum, the almighty gaydar?”

kibum shrugs. “you said it, not me.”

that gets them on a little game of ‘is he gay?’ in which the members name male celebrities and kibum says whether or not he thinks they’re gay. some of the yes answers are, in taemin’s opinion, wishful thinking on kibum’s part, but sometimes he says it with a conviction that suggests he has hard evidence. 

the others have a rollicking good time with this game, but taemin kind of wants to ask, not who, but _how_ do you know? what are the tells? 

he doesn’t, though. because what if asking that _is_ one of the tells? taemin has a bad enough poker face as it is, so he tries to put it out of his mind. kibum isn’t the only one who gets to hold his cards close to his chest.


	2. what you got, boy (jongtae)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is actually the beginning an alternate version of [this onkey fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7131236), because at one time I thought that I wanted to write the jongtae sideplot as its own fic. I quickly gave up lol because I wasn't sure where it was going. I may add to this after posting, though, if inspiration strikes haha.
> 
> ~683 words, teen for sexual language only.

"Men with big cocks are terrible in bed," Jonghyun announces one day. He says it sort of out of the blue, like he's been mulling it over for a while and had to get it off his chest. Weird, as far as conversation starters go, but definitely not Jonghyun's weirdest.

"That's bullshit," Taemin says without missing a beat. 

"No," Jonghyun says, clearly delighted to have found opposition and a reason to argue. "It's so true! They think just because they're well-endowed, they're like, _gods_ or something, so they make no effort at all to make it good for their partner. And it's obnoxious."

"Shame you never slept with me, then," Taemin says. Again, no beat missed. "Because I have a big cock _and_ I'm a fantastic lay."

That seems to give Jonghyun pause, and he considers Taemin with half-hooded eyes, scratching his chin.

"Can you please take this scintillating conversation elsewhere," Kibum puts in from his side of the kitchen table, covered in books and printouts and a laptop and old, empty coffee cups, "because _some_ of us have more important things to do than sit around talking about cocks all day."

"There's nothing more important than talking about cocks," Taemin says blithely, wearing a grin impervious to the venom in Kibum's murderously sleep-deprived eyes. 

"I think you just need to get laid, Kibum," Jonghyun says. "That'd cheer you right up."

" _I_ think," Kibum growls, "what I need is to finish this fucking paper without you two yelling about your bar hopping conquests in both my ears."

"No, Jonghyun's right," Taemin says, and doesn't miss the way Jonghyun preens a little bit at the sound of his own name. "You just need to come _with_ us on our bar hopping adventures! Tomorrow night. Friday night. You can't say no, hyung, it'll be an excuse to wear those ridiculous pants you bought last month."

"Well." Kibum purses his lips, and Taemin knows he's won. Kibum is so easily manipulated by clothing. "If I say yes, will you both leave me the fuck alone so I can do my work right now?"

"Absolutely," Jonghyun says. He springs up and heads for the door, tugging Taemin along by the wrist, his fingers lean and warm against Taemin's skin. "Be home for dinner, you want me to pick up take-out?"

"Yeah," Kibum calls as they're pulling on their shoes. "Text me when you're on your way back."

"'Kay," Jonghyun says, picking his keys up from the counter and dropping them into his pocket. He lets go of Taemin's wrist in the process. "Hope you're in the mood for Chinese!"

Taemin shuffles after Jonghyun out the front door. Watches the shift of muscles beneath his tight black jeans.

"Hey," Taemin says as they walk down the hallway to the elevator, "did you ever hook up with Kibum?" No one ever said Jonghyun had a monopoly on bringing up weird shit out of nowhere.

"Huh?" Jonghyun says, caught off guard. He raises one eyebrow. "Why would you ask that?"

"I was just wondering," Taemin says. "It seems plausible."

"Kibum's my best friend," Jonghyun says. "I'm not into him. I don't see him like that at all."

"Okay, but are you saying you _never_ hooked up with him?"

The elevator dings, and Jonghyun shoots Taemin a withering look. "Fine, we hooked up once. Happy?"

"When?”

"Like, _forever_ ago," Jonghyun says. "God, I'd almost forgotten."

"Forever ago like last year, or like…?" Taemin prompts. He feels something unpleasant uncoiling in his stomach as he asks, but a morbid curiosity has seized him, and he can't let it go now.

"Like in high school," Jonghyun says. "Neither of us knew any other gay guys. So, yeah, we hooked up. But it sucked." Jonghyun laughs. "I think we were both weirded out, and then Kibum got a boyfriend, and I went to college. And, that's it. Any other questions?"

"No,” Taemin says. This elevator has always been so goddamn loud; why does it feel silent as a tomb now? “If I think of any more I’ll let you know.”

“Great. You do that.”


	3. i ain't saying she a gold digger (onkey)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a REALLY OLD onkey spinoff from a REALLY OLD 2min fic posted on LJ, lmao. The original was so gross and weird that I'm not even going to link it. Basically taem/jong/key share an apartment, and jongkey are trying to nab rich husbands. In the orig, jongkey both flop and Taemin is the one who /maybe/ ends up with a rich dude (Minho) lol. 
> 
> This is ~2800 words and (non-explicitly) sexual.

Taemin calls him a gold digger, but Kibum likes to think of himself as an opportunist. After all, he is charming, and rich people are easily charmed. He is high maintenance, and rich people have the means to pamper him. By this twisted logic, it's only natural that he find himself a rich man to spoil him senseless. He tells himself that he deserves it. And so, after enlisting his two best friends to accompany him on his quest, Kibum saunters into a bar decidedly out of his price range with his eyes peeled for the wealthiest and most unsuspecting man he can find. 

And Lee Jinki is the perfect candidate.

Kibum stays almost obsessively up-to-date on Seoul's top-tier socialites, and though the likes of Choi Minho and Kwon Yuri are affluent in a high-profile way, Lee Jinki has always been noteworthy to Kibum for the little things. Jinki is the face of a small advertising campaign for recycling. Jinki always messes up during interviews about his family's marketing business. Jinki is a regular at the coffee shop Kibum goes to (okay, _maybe_ he started going there after he found out Jinki was a regular) and always greets the baristas with a smile. Jinki has a laugh that’s bubbly and contagious.

Kibum will maintain until the day he dies that he only takes such a great interest in Lee Jinki because he's one of the wealthiest bachelors in the city, and no one's ever challenged that, so he half believes it himself. But now, sitting in this bar and seeing Lee Jinki _right there_ across the room, he doesn’t bother trying to explain himself. Jonghyun’s already zipped off to hit on some other rich dude anyway, and Taemin has never cared about the goings-on of the elite. 

Feeling extra emboldened by the shot of liquid courage warming his veins, Kibum crosses the room with purpose and sits down next to Jinki.

"Ah," Jinki says, startled, "do I know you?"

"I don't think so," Kibum says, smiling. "I'm Kibum. You're Lee Jinki, right?"

"Yeah," Jinki says warily. "Hey, you're not a reporter, are you?"

"No," Kibum laughs. "Why?"

"I hate reporters," Jinki sighs. "They're pushy."

"Really?" Kibum tries his hardest to sound fascinated. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, they don't respect personal boundaries," Jinki explains. "And they try to trick you into saying things that you shouldn't. And I just – I'm not good at dealing with them."

"Oh," Kibum says sympathetically. "I guess it must be tough to be famous?"

"You have no idea," Jinki says with a small smile. He knocks back a long gulp of soju. "Sometimes I wish my family would go bankrupt so I could be a normal person." He looks up at Kibum worriedly. "You're really not from the press?"

"Really," Kibum promises. "I'm just... you could say, I'm a fan of yours." 

"Um," Jinki says, reddening. He looks embarrassed, and from the way he's clutching anxiously at his soju Kibum can tell that he's searching for an excuse to leave.

_Fuck._

"I like your smile," Kibum blurts out. "I think you have a beautiful smile."

"Th-thank you," Jinki says, surprised. 

"And I... I really admire you," Kibum continues. "God, now I'm just embarrassing myself – I'm sorry, I should go." 

"No," Jinki says, putting his hand on Kibum's arm and smiling shyly at him. "It's okay, stay."

 

Somehow they end up at Jinki's house barely an hour later. Kibum silently congratulates himself for making things move along so quickly, but it probably helps that Jinki downed nearly two bottles of soju in the short time they were at the bar. Kibum kind of feels like puking just watching him. Still, he has only to whisper silkily in Jinki's ear ( _"Let's get out of here"_ ) and the older man is growing all flustered and calling a cab, and from there it's only a matter of minutes before the two of them are stumbling through his front door and Jinki's lips are pressing insistently against Kibum's. 

"Mm," he pants, "ah, Kibum – I – I've never really done this before, so – "

"It's okay," Kibum says, his lips curving into a smirk. "I have."

Jinki's eyes are wide and filled to the brim with Kibum, nothing but Kibum, and his smile is full of trust as he leads the younger man up three flights of richly carpeted stairs to his bedroom. Jinki's hand is clammy and sweaty in Kibum's, and it should be gross, but Kibum smiles. He should be repulsed – he's sure that if it were anyone else, he would be – but somehow, the fact that Jinki's palm is damp and slightly jittery is endearing to Kibum. This is Lee Jinki, heir to one of Korea's most prosperous companies, a man who will undoubtedly go on to have a profound effect on the world, and now, thanks to little old Kim Kibum, he's an utter wreck. It feels nice, this newfound power.

But he doesn't have much time to think about it because they barely make it into the bedroom before Jinki is kissing him messily and pressing up against him desperately. In a matter of moments, Kibum finds himself pinned against the inside of the closed door, and somehow Jinki's managing to both suck aggressively at Kibum's collarbone and lock the door at the same time. 

"Bed," Kibum manages, and Jinki complies right away, hoisting him up with surprising strength and depositing him on the huge, fluffy bed. 

"Is this okay?" Jinki murmurs, crawling onto the bed and hovering over Kibum rather hesitantly for someone who's just _thrown_ his partner onto a bed. "I mean... am I... going too fast, or...?"

"You're doing just fine," Kibum says firmly. "You're also drunk off your ass. I'm going to consider it a victory if you even remember any of this in the morning."

"You're so," Jinki breathes, pausing to angle in for a kiss. "So beautiful. I could never forget this."

"Mm," Kibum says, smiling and wrapping his legs around Jinki's waist. He brings their lips together once more, and they dispense with conversation for the night.

 

 

When Kibum awakes, he has difficulty remembering at first exactly where he is. There's an awful lot of light burning his retinas, and there's an awful lot of pillow beneath his head, and he's awfully warm, considering that it's the middle of the winter...

Then he realizes that it's too bright because there's a massive window in the ceiling high above him, and there are too many pillows because he's in someone else's (giant) bed, and it's too warm because Lee Jinki, the billionaire, is cuddled up against his back. 

And then he gives himself a mental pat on the back, because shit. He's _spooning_ with Lee Jinki. Well done, Kibum.

For a few minutes he doesn't move and just lounges drowsily in the sunlight, enjoying the feel of Jinki's fingers curled possessively around his hipbones. The sound of Jinki's slow, even breaths is calming, and Kibum gives himself over to reliving the previous night in his mind. Jinki is such a strangely multi-faceted individual. Kibum thinks he could really get used to this.

And then Jinki wakes up. 

Kibum can feel him stirring against his back, and so he flips around and caresses Jinki's cheekbone lightly.

"Morning, you," he says quietly as Jinki blinks himself awake. "Have a good night's sleep?"

He's expecting Jinki to maybe say yes, or nod and yawn cutely, or even burrow back down beneath the covers. What he's not prepared for is the unearthly shriek that Jinki lets loose upon seeing him.

"What?" Kibum cries, alarmed. "What is it?"

Jinki looks positively terrified. "What – ?"

"What's wrong?" Kibum asks urgently. He sits up, reaches out to put a reassuring hand on Jinki's shoulder, but Jinki jerks away. 

"Oh my god," Jinki says, paling and shuffling backwards in the endless expanse of bed. "Who are you?"

Kibum's heart stops.

"And," Jinki continues, having shot a horrified glance under the covers at himself, "why am I naked? Oh, god, what happened last night?"

"You don't," Kibum says numbly, "you don't remember any of it?"

"I got drunk, didn't I?" Jinki moans. "I did. I can feel the hangover." He winces. "This is so embarrassing. I always do stupid things when I'm drunk. Oh my god, this is bad. You didn't – you won't call any reporters or anything, right?"

Kibum shakes his head mutely. He doesn't particularly trust himself to speak.

"Good," Jinki sighs. "I hate reporters."

Kibum just stares at him. His entire night's work, all of that effort – _all of that sex_ – is for nothing. Jinki doesn't remember a second of it. He can't decide which emotion is stronger right now – humiliation or disappointment. So far, humiliation seems to be winning out. 

"You know, I should probably get dressed," Jinki says. He stops, studies Kibum worriedly for a moment. "Oh, god. You're naked too, aren't you."

Kibum nods and Jinki flushes. "Then you'd better get dressed too. We need to get you out of the house without being seen. If the press were to get ahold of this..."

"Right," Kibum says. He slithers out of the bed, facing away from Jinki, and pulls on his clothes as quickly as he can. From the other side of the room, he can hear Jinki doing the same. Once he's sufficiently covered, he turns back to Jinki with all the dignity he can muster and says, "I'm ready to leave. Show me where to go."

"Okay," Jinki says. "Now, I've never done this before, but I think it could work. There's an entrance for the servants at the far end of the south wing, so if you just head out that way no one will think anything of it, even if you're dressed – " he eyes the sheer T-shirt highlighting Kibum's sharp collarbones " – um, not like a servant."

"Sure," Kibum says. 

"Do you want me to show you the way, or...?" Jinki asks awkwardly. "Because, you know, it's kind of a big house. You might get lost. I know I used to."

"It's okay," Kibum says, nodding his thanks. "I'll just find it myself."

"Alright," Jinki says, looking relieved. "Hey, before you go, do you think you could just – I mean, could you tell me exactly what happened last night?"

"You really don't remember any of it?" Kibum asks, staring into those warm, innocent eyes.

"Not really," Jinki says apologetically. He wrinkles his nose. "I remember getting to the bar, sitting by myself for a bit... actually, I think I do remember meeting you there... but everything after that is a blank."

"Huh," Kibum mutters. "Well, you're a very lucid drunk, I'll give you that much."

"I am?"

"Nothing really happened," Kibum says shortly. "We made out for a bit, but then you passed out, so nothing happened."

"Really?" Jinki says eagerly. "Ah, that's a relief. I mean, no offense, of course. You seem like a perfectly nice person, but I'm just glad I didn't sleep with you when I couldn't even remember it!"

"Yeah," Kibum says softly, his chest thudding painfully. "That… that would be sad.”

"Hm?"

"Nothing,” Kibum says, turning to leave. “I’m off, I guess. Thanks for everything.”

And then he makes his way down the stairs so quickly that he doesn't even hear Jinki's goodbye. 

 

 

Kibum ends up getting lost. It's not that the house is too big for him to navigate, it's just that Jinki told him to use the entrance at the south wing, and Kibum doesn't have some built-in compass directing him to the south, so he has no idea how to find the south fucking wing. It occurs to him to just use the front door, but he looks out the window and sees at least three reporters lying in wait amongst the tall hedges outside the house, and he decides against it. Instead he wanders around the downstairs for a bit, glaring at all of the expensive furniture and even kicking one of the pristine white walls, leaving a minute, gray scuff mark (though the twinge of vindictive pleasure he feels in his heart is not nearly enough to make up for the flare of pain he feels in his big toe). Eventually he finds himself in a vast kitchen, where a harried-looking girl in a white apron is preparing Jinki's breakfast. He asks her where the south wing entrance is, and she laughs.

"It's right back there," she says, pointing to the door through which he's just come. "You walked right past it. There's a hallway with an orange lamp, just follow that and you're there."

"Thanks," he says curtly. 

She shrugs. "No problem."

Then, as Kibum is leaving the kitchen, he runs into Jinki – literally. He and Jinki collide roughly, abruptly, and though Kibum huffs and staggers, he manages to keep his balance; Jinki falls flat on his ass. 

"Ah!" Jinki exclaims, reddening and getting hastily to his feet. "Kibum!"

"I'm going now," Kibum says stiffly. He does _not_ feel a little thrill at Jinki speaking his name again. It’s not important. The only thing that matters right now is just getting home as soon as possible. 

"Hey, wait," Jinki says, "I'm sorry – "

But Kibum brushes past him, down the hall, and out the door. His dramatic exit has a lot less of an effect the second time, but at least this time he actually manages to leave the house. As it turns out, the south wing's entrance leads to a secluded back alley in a well-to-do neighborhood. Kibum can only assume that it's useful for servants who want to come and go without running into the paparazzi determinedly staking out the front of the house. And really, for all he knows, it could be useful for Jinki when he wants to avoid the paparazzi staking out the front of the house. But right now, all Kibum sees in it is that it's too narrow for a taxi, and he'll have to find an actual street before he can call a cab.

He makes his way down the alley and emerges in what looks like a frighteningly rich neighborhood – he almost thinks that he should have his phone's camera at the ready, in case he spots any celebrities. He doesn't see anyone famous, but he does see a street sign, and, after an awkward ten minutes of waiting shiftily on the sidewalk, he's sitting in a cab and finally on his way home.

When he arrives back at the apartment, he finds Taemin and Jonghyun just waking up. Or, more accurately, he finds Taemin waking up Jonghyun.

"If you wanna eat, you gotta get up now," Taemin hollers into Jonghyun's ear. "Come on, you're not _that_ hung over."

"Yes, I am, you stupid brat," Jonghyun moans, curling up and burying his face in his comforter. "And I don't need you to make me breakfast, okay. The last time I ate your cooking I had food poisoning."

"Stop exaggerating," Taemin pouts. "C'mon, get up."

"Get up, Jjong," Kibum puts in from the doorway. "I think we're all a little hungover. Let's eat together."

"Kibummie," Jonghyun whines. "Make me breakfast?"

"Sure," Kibum says. There's a dull pounding in his head, but he grins through it. It's good to be home.

"When did you get back?" Taemin asks. 

"Just now," Kibum replies as they make their way to the kitchen. 

"Were you at Lee Jinki's place?"

"Yeah." Kibum busies himself with breakfast preparations, hoping fruitlessly that Taemin's line of questioning will end there. 

"Well?"

"Well what?" Kibum snaps.

"My head hurts," Jonghyun says pitifully, limping into the kitchen and bearing an uncanny resemblance to a sad, lost little puppy. "Feed me, Kibum."

Kibum is all too happy to comply, and for a while he fends off Taemin's interrogation with food. But, inevitably, the three of them begin discussing their conquests (or lack thereof) from the night before. And, when asked, Kibum opens his mouth fully intending to speak the truth: that he slept with Lee Jinki, who was too drunk to remember anything, and that nothing came of it. It's humiliating, but it's reality, and Kibum is nothing if not honest. 

But instead he finds himself skirting around the reason for his failure.

"He's like, socially retarded, I swear," he hears himself saying, as though he himself had been the one who chose not to pursue the relationship. As though he'd had any hand in the way it had been decided that he and Jinki wouldn't be seeing each other ever again. As though he would willingly walk away from the prospect of a relationship with that wonderful, stupid _imbecile_ of a man.

Then Taemin drops the name Minho, as in Choi Minho, and Kibum is grateful to be able to focus on something, anything, rather than his own thoughts.


	4. hey, i just met you and this is crazy (ontae)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ontae! From back when I wanted to write a fic for each Shinee pairing, based off of dumb trashy pop songs. The only one I ever actually published was 2min, based off Teenage Dream by Katy Perry lol. Although now that I think about it [this onkey](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7131236) is based off of Your Love is My Drug by Ke$ha lmao. So that's 2/10. This one is based off Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen. 
> 
> ~1205 words, possible squick warning because Taemin is 17 and Jinki is in college.

Jinki looks down at the address on his phone, looks up at the towering apartment building in front of him. Looks down at his phone again. Sighs.

A week ago he'd advertised himself online as a tutor, expecting his resume and the prestige of his university to rack up tons of clients. But in the end, only one person responded, explaining in a brief email that her seventeen-year-old son was failing half of his classes and needed an intervention. Jinki had agreed to tutor the kid; after all, what choice did he have? A customer was a customer, and as a perpetually broke college student, he was hard up for cash, and not especially picky about how he got it. 

But now, after rereading Mrs. Lee's email six times, all he can find is the street address of their home, which he'd assumed would be a house. He has no idea what their apartment number is. Maybe there _is_ no apartment. Maybe there is no Mrs. Lee. This could be a big hoax – this could be a conspiracy. He could be kidnapped. Jinki swallows.

Mrs. Lee (if indeed that _is_ her name) had included a phone number though, so Jinki decides to just call and ask.

"Hello?" 

"Um, may I speak to Mrs. Lee, please?" Jinki says nervously. 

"Who are you?" The voice on the other end is low, challenging. 

"I'm Jinki," Jinki says. "The tutor?"

A heavy sigh rattles through the line. "What do you want?"

"Er – I’d like to speak to Mrs. Lee, please."

"She's busy."

Jinki frowns. "Are you, by any chance, Taemin?"

"Yeah."

"Ah. Okay. In that case, Taemin, what's your apartment number? I'm standing outside your building. And – also, could you buzz me in?"

There's a long pause. Jinki thinks maybe the call's been lost.

"Taemin?"

"Yeah, okay. It's apartment five-fifteen. I'll buzz you in."

Taemin sounds like the kind of rebellious teenager who'd fail half his classes just to spite his parents. Jinki's expecting a punk in a leather jacket to answer the door when he knocks on number five-fifteen, but instead he gets a middle-aged woman with mismatched house slippers and a tired smile.

"Jinki," says Mrs. Lee, "how nice to meet you. Come on in."

"Nice to meet you," Jinki says, bowing and shucking off his shoes.

"Now, Taemin's in the kitchen with his schoolwork," she says, lowering her voice as she leads Jinki through the entryway, "but he's still very… resistant to the idea of having a tutor. I thought this could be a trial run. See if he warms up to you."

"I can _hear_ you," comes an annoyed voice. Jinki turns a corner and there, slouched against a kitchen counter and munching on a strip of dried seaweed, is an angel.

Okay, yes, he's wearing a belligerent scowl and yes, there are dots of seaweed flecking his chin and teeth, and sure, he is underage, but. He's _gorgeous_. Wide brown eyes, soft full lips, long, lanky limbs, and lord, he's wearing skinny jeans. He's wearing the skinniest god damn jeans, low on his hips and tight around his thighs, and on any other guy Jinki would call them obscene but on Taemin those black jeans, coupled with a loose T-shirt, just _fit_. 

"So you're Jinki the tutor," Taemin says contemptuously, licking his lips of the last remnants of seaweed. Jinki is losing his mind. He wants to drag his tongue along Taemin's jaw.

"Yeah," he says nervously. "And you're Taemin. The, uh. Student."

"Well, I'll leave you two to get to work," Mrs. Lee says brightly, and promptly disappears, leaving Jinki alone with a very surly and altogether too beautiful Taemin.

Taemin glances Jinki up and down briefly, eyes cool, lids at half mast, like he can't even be bothered to give Jinki a proper look, and Jinki gulps. Suddenly he's hyperaware of his discolored, mismatched socks and his dorky glasses and his shaggy hair, painfully unstylish and long overdue for a cut, and how much his armpits are sweating. He's supposed to be an _adult_ , supposed to have his shit together. And especially here, in front Taemin's effortless perfection, as Jinki feels his cheeks heat up and as he tries to remember just what he's here for while the silence in the room stretches on and on, it becomes abundantly clear that no, as a matter of fact, his shit is not together. His shit is just alllll over the place.

Damn it.

It's Taemin who speaks first.

"So like, tutor me. Or something." It's barely a mumble, more like a scoff. Taemin's examining his left index finger, which is painted black. Not with nail polish, Jinki realizes, but with Sharpie ink. _Hopelessly juvenile_ , Jinki thinks, and then: _that's kind of cute_.

"Yes, yeah," Jinki says. He hefts his shoulder bag. "Tutoring. That's why I'm here."

Taemin rolls his eyes. "I don't _need_ a tutor, just so you know."

"Okay," Jinki says. "Well, I'll just watch you do some problems from your homework. If that's alright. It's math, right? That you need – that you're doing right now."

"Math," Taemin affirms sullenly. He flips his fringe out of his eyes. His hair is silky and auburn and long like Jinki's, but unlike Jinki, Taemin makes it work. With his long hair and wide brown eyes and smooth, sensual lips, he has a kind of angelic beauty Jinki could never hope to match. And those slender, subtly muscled limbs as they cross the room to the kitchen table – those _thighs_ as they shift and move beneath impossibly tight denim – they’re unconsciously graceful in a way that ought to make hamfisted Jinki jealous, but doesnt. Instead, it just make him kind of aroused.

"Y-yeah, cool," Jinki says, clearing his throat and sitting gingerly next to Taemin. "Math."

Taemin flips his hair again, and the scent of his citrus shampoo wafts, tantalizing and sweet, into Jinki's face.

"Math," Jinki gulps, reaching into his bag for a pencil, a distraction, anything but the smell of his too-beautiful tutee, "math."

Taemin spins his pencil deftly around his thumb in a smooth, practiced motion. 

"I fucking hate math," he announces. And all Jinki can think is, _I wanna kiss those lips._

It's going to be a long, long tutoring session.

 

"I never thought I'd see you reduced to a nervous wreck," Jonghyun says, utterly unimpressed, "over a _high schooler_ , of all things."

"I'm not," Jinki says distractedly, "nervous wreck? No, no. I just. Jonghyun."

"What."

"He'll call me, right? I mean, I think he'll call, I hope. He has my number." Jinki wrings his hands. "But, just, what if he doesn't?"

"He's definitely gonna call, hyung," Jonghyun says, rolling his eyes, "to arrange your next _tutoring session_. Because you are his _tutor_. And he is _seventeen_."

"Don't remind me," Jinki all but sobs. He buries his head in his arms on the kitchen table. "Oh god, don't remind me."

Jonghyun, Jinki's roommate and voice of reason, pats him on the back. "There, there. Remember, you only have to endure this until he stops failing math. And then you can forget about your little jailbait fantasy."

 _But I don't wanna forget_ , bubbles up to Jinki's lips. He wisely keeps them zipped.


	5. hear my thoughts in every note (jongyu)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To add onto the unfinished 'based off of dumb trashy pop songs' series, this is a Jongyu based off of Stereo Hearts by Gym Class Heroes. I think you can kind of tell the timeline of when I was writing these, lol. 
> 
> ~2823 words, very brief explicit content.

Kim Jonghyun has this _thing_ about mixtapes. 

It's weird and irrational, and even after nearly a decade of friendship Jinki doesn't fully understand it, but Jonghyun considers every relationship incomplete until he's come up with the perfect mixtape to describe it. He'll spend days – literally _days_ , the record being five – holed up in his room, hunched over his laptop, searching and searching for just the right lyrics, just the right melody to capture his feelings for whichever girl he happens to be dating at the time. 

"You majored in music composition, for god's sake," Jinki says one day, exasperatedly handing Jonghyun a bowl of ramyun. It's day two. "Just _write_ her a song, it'll probably be faster."

"I can't," Jonghyun says, "we've only been dating a month. I'd come off as creepy and obsessive."

"Right, because this," Jinki gestures at Jonghyun's sweat-stained pajamas, his nearly-vertical bedhead, the bags beneath his eyes, "is totally normal."

"Fuck off, I'm almost done," Jonghyun says, taking the ramyun and shutting the door forcefully. "Thanks for the food."

"This is the last time I feed you," Jinki warns him before returning to the kitchen. "I won't keep indulging your unhealthy shut-in tendencies."

"Yes, you will," Jonghyun yells from his room. "Love you, hyung!"

Jinki snorts. 

_If only._

 

 

Months pass, and so do girlfriends. This one lasts until February, just four days shy of the four-month mark. Jinki knows because Jonghyun has been counting down, loudly and excitedly, for two weeks. 

("Four months does not merit this amount of unbridled elation," Jinki says. 

"Okay," Jonghyun says, "when was the last time _you_ were in a relationship longer than four months?"

 _Never_ , bubbles to Jinki's lips, followed by, _but you know, you and I have been living together for seven years._

Wisely, he chooses to say nothing.)

Jonghyun's had longer relationships, and more disastrous ones, but because this one's ended so close to a “landmark”, the meltdown is considerable. Jinki spends a lot of his free time watching movies with Jonghyun and making him cupcakes and helping him craft his fifth Angry Breakup Mix. This is another thing Jinki will never understand. Jonghyun spends far more time making each Angry Breakup Mix than listening to it, and since he already has four, why not just listen to one of those? 

"It's not about the product," Jonghyun explains. "It's about the _process_. Now. Gotye, yes or no?"

Jinki vetoes Gotye, then presses on: 

"But by dedicating so much time to making mixes about her, aren't you, like, giving her more power? You're letting her influence you even after she's gone."

"It's closure, hyung," Jonghyun says. "I'm gonna make this mix, listen to it a couple times, and then I'm not gonna think about her anymore. Easy. Done. I move on."

This, Jinki thinks, is a simplistic but prudent strategy. He wonders if making an Angry Breakup Mix of his own would help him get over his own hopeless crush, would make him stop wishing for Jonghyun's slender waist between his hands and Jonghyun's lean thighs wrapped around his own. He wonders if you can get closure for something that never existed. 

And then he realizes, probably not, because Jonghyun is his roommate, and he's already tried to stop wanting him. Many times, in fact. And each time, whatever spark of closure he can muster up is soundly snuffed out by Jonghyun's beatific morning smile, or the damp shape of his back as he emerges from the shower, or the breathy sound of his voice yawning _g'night hyung_. He'll get over Jonghyun only when he no longer has to live with him, when the scenes of blissful mundanity disappear, and with them the delusions that Jonghyun is his and his alone.

But Jinki is too lazy to move out, or too weak, or too foolish, so he helps Jonghyun finish his mix, and he makes them both dinner, and he falls asleep with a few feet of plaster and several years' worth of regrets lying heavy between his bed and Jonghyun's.

 

 

For ten Saturdays he's been avoiding this, but after Jonghyun's breakup he decides it's time to man up. His juniors from university have been hounding him persistently via call, text, and email, even sending a couple of postcards to his apartment, so finally, seeing them becomes unavoidable. 

Not that Jinki doesn't want to see them, but – 

"So have you asked him out yet?"

– his juniors are just incurably nosy.

"No, Kibum," Jinki sighs. "And a 'hello' would be nice, before you jump into the Spanish Inquisition."

"Hi, hyung," Taemin chirps, standing from his seat at the cafe table and hugging Jinki warmly. "It's been too long."

"It's been eight months," Kibum says, "and you _still_ haven't asked him out?"

"Nice to see you, too." Jinki pulls up a chair to the table built for two. The surface is already pretty crowded, with a mocha and a bulky manpurse in front of Kibum and an iced coffee and a veritable mountain of baked goods in front of Taemin. Jinki nudges his latte onto the table between a blueberry muffin and a glazed donut. "I take it from your incredibly expensive-looking bag that the journalist gig is going well?"

"This?" Kibum laughs, bracelets clinking as he waves one delicate hand dismissively at his bag. "This is a knockoff. My job is going well, though, thanks for asking. But don't try to deflect. We have to talk about this."

"Talk about what?" Jinki says weakly.

"About your frankly astonishing lack of game," Kibum says impatiently. "How many years have you been living with that man?"

"I don't think that's relevant – "

"Seven," Taemin interjects, his mouth full of chocolate croissant.

"You have been living with that man for seven years, and you have not slept with him even once," Kibum says, shaking his head. "I'm tempted to give up hope."

"Please do," Jinki says. "He's straight, for one thing. For another, _surely_ there's something else we can talk about – ?" He shoots a pleading look at Taemin.

"No," Taemin says, wiping flaky pastry crumbs from his lips, "It's been seven years, hyung. This much brooding can't be healthy."

"Also, we know he's not straight," Kibum points out. "Remember Minho?"

Of course Jinki remembers Minho. How could he forget? The image of that angelic, smiling face and that firm, sculpted body sitting completely nude at his kitchen table is burned forever into his brain. He'd nearly passed out, and then Jonghyun had appeared, also nude, and said, startled, "Oh, Jinki. I didn't realize you were here."

It was all very traumatizing. Jinki's not forgetting Minho anytime soon.

"But that was just a one night stand," he says now. "And it was senior year, he was just experimenting. You know. Everybody experiments in college and all of that. Jonghyun takes those kinds of sayings very literally."

"But the point is, he slept with a guy once," Taemin says. "He'd do it again. Just seduce him and be done with it."

"Maybe he would sleep with another guy," Jinki says, "but not with me."

"Jesus," Kibum says, rolling his eyes. "Your self esteem has plummeted to critical levels, hyung. Of _course_ he'd sleep with you, it's _you_. You already live together."

"Exactly," Jinki snaps, "which is why he would never. I'm telling you, I _can't_. If I even tried it'd fuck everything up, and I'd have to move out, and I don't want that. I'm happy with how things are now."

Kibum appraises him coolly, tapping his fingers on the white ceramic of his mug. 

"Bullshit," he says evenly. "That's complete bullshit."

"What?"

"You're _not_ happy now," Kibum says accusingly, "because you're in love with your roommate and he doesn't know it. And that's not fair to you, because you have to see him every day and not do anything about your feelings, and it's not fair to him, because you're lying by omission about something really important. The only way to resolve it is to get it out in the open. Worst case scenario, you have to move out. Big fucking deal, you can stay with me a while. Best case scenario, you two fuck like happy bunnies and live happily ever after. Isn't that what you want?"

"I don't," Jinki says, reeling a little from the sudden outpouring of sheer argumentativeness from Kibum's mouth. "I don't want to move out."

"Look," Kibum says, clearly fed up. "You won't have to move out. Do what I say, and Jonghyun will be your boyfriend in thirty days, guaranteed."

"That sounds like a bad informercial," Jinki says, "and I want no part of your scheming."

"Oh my _god_ ," Kibum moans. "I am trying to help you. Listen, this is really a foolproof method, I've done it like three times."

Jinki turns to Taemin, who nods solemnly.

"I've seen it in action," Taemin says. "It's super effective."

"Don't you dare reference Pokemon at a time like this," Jinki begs with a hint of desperation. "Can you just, both of you, please _stop_?"

Taemin and Kibum glance at each other.

"We want you to be happy," Taemin starts.

"We'll stop," Kibum says, speaking over him. "But only after you give my method a try."

Jinki has tried Kibum's Method for a number of things, including eliminating pimples, passing Art History, and DIY hair coloring. Two out of three of times, listening to Kibum ended catastrophically. But Kibum _had_ given him good advice about clearing up his acne, and Jinki will be forever grateful for the confidence boost having good skin had given him. So he decides to give Kibum the benefit of the doubt. 

"Well," he says, taking a deep breath. "What exactly is this method of yours?"

 

 

One of the unintentional side-effects of living with a person for seven years straight is learning that person's masturbating schedule. At least, Jinki knows Jonghyun's. He's not sure if Jonghyun knows his. 

This information had made Jinki unspeakably uncomfortable in the past, but now he's finally going to put it to good use. When Jonghyun returns home the next Thursday night, shuffling in the door after his late night 10 to 2 shift at a local 24-hour diner, he putters around in the kitchen for a few minutes whipping together a snack, and then retreats to his room. Normally Jinki would be asleep by now, but he's been drinking caffeine nonstop since midnight in order to be awake for what he knows is Jonghyun's prime post-work relaxation time. 

And by relaxation, he means jacking off.

So he waits ten minutes, and then he goes and knocks on Jonghyun's bedroom door. From within there's a muffled curse, the sound of blankets rustling, and then a flat yell: " _What_ , hyung?"

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" Jinki asks, hand on the doorknob.

"Does it have to be now?"

"Yeah," Jinki says, swallowing. 

When Jonghyun doesn't say anything in response, Jinki opens the door. 

Jonghyun's room resembles a disaster zone, as per usual. He always insists that it's perfectly in order, but Jonghyun doesn't really clean. He stacks. Piles of sweatpants and CDs and dirty dishes and books and magazines and shoes and other miscellany lie strewn about randomly, and partially buried beneath one of these towering mounds is Jonghyun's bed, shoved into a corner. The bed is a double, but all of his bedding is queen. Tucked in the midst of his overlarge gray comforter and reclining against five giant pillows, Jonghyun looks particularly tiny. Jinki wonders if he's hiding a boner under the miles of voluminous blanket. 

"What's up?" Jonghyun says, closing his laptop and balancing it on a pillow next to him.

"I'm going to broach a really weird subject," Jinki begins, picking his way through the mess and coming to stand before Jonghyun's bed. "And I want you to not freak out."

"Try me," Jonghyun sniffs.

"Okay," Jinki says. Jonghyun's eyes meet his own attentively, and the room is dead silent but for the sound of his own nervous gulping. Suddenly this isn't as easy as Kibum had made it seem. Even bedraggled and grimy and nestled like a hermit in bed, Jonghyun is stupidly, confusingly handsome, and Jinki can't find the words he had worked so hard to memorize. 

"What?" Jonghyun says, raising one eyebrow. "Stop staring at me like that."

"Okay," Jinki says again. He _can_ do this. "Well. So, as you may know, since I, um, came out, I have been with a few guys. I think you knew that. Maybe you didn't. Well, you knew about a couple of them, since I was seeing them semi-seriously, but the others maybe you didn't – "

"Yeah, I did." Jonghyun says. "Chansung, Yoseob, Cheolyong? I knew."

"Ah." This throws Jinki for a bit of a loop; he'd thought he'd been discreet about those. But he continues. "Right, so I have done some things, er, sexually, but I haven't yet – you know – gone all the way." This is a lie, but he's confident Jonghyun has no way of knowing that. "But I want to."

Jonghyun says nothing, watches him carefully.

"Because I want the experience, I want to be good at it," Jinki says while knowing full well that he's already damn good at it, "and because, obviously, I am a man, and I have, um, needs…"

Jonghyun snorts.

"We both do," Jinki goes on bravely. "Have needs, I mean. And we're both men. And we're both unattached. And – "

"You're propositioning me," Jonghyun says, face wide open with shock and looking a little crestfallen, as though there were some other direction this conversation could have gone. 

"Essentially, yeah," Jinki says, voice sinking into a mortified whisper. "I just – as long as we're both single, I thought maybe – and obviously if you don't want to, that's fine, or if we start and you want to stop, that's fine, but just – god, I'm not doing this right at all."

"It's okay," Jonghyun says. "I get the gist. You want us to be fuckbuddies."

"That sounds so crude," Jinki says meekly. "I just – want to sleep with you – rather, I think we should sleep together, and – " He's fucking up all of his lines. Kibum would be so ashamed. 

"Okay," Jonghyun says simply.

Jinki blinks. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Jonghyun says. He curls his arms around his chest, biceps bulging. "It sounds okay to me."

The shock of Jonghyun's ready acquiescence blows past Jinki like a three-second hurricane, and he's left ecstatically windswept but unsure of what to do next. "Well," he says, "um. Well. Great."

"When did you wanna start?" Jonghyun asks. "Like, now?"

"Um!"

"Did you want us to sleep together now?" Jonghyun says impatiently. "Because, I'm game."

"I'm – yes," Jinki says faintly. "I would – I'd like that, sure – just. Give me a second to mentally prepare myself."

Jonghyun rolls his eyes. "Come here, hyung."

Jinki half-stumbles, half-lunges into Jonghyun's bed, straddling Jonghyun's hips awkwardly and blushing and reaching up to grab Jonghyun's shoulder. Jonghyun's breath is shallow and hot against his cheek and their noses are practically touching. This is too fast, Jinki thinks hazily, I should slow down.

"Are you sure about this?" he says softly. 

"I'm positive," Jonghyun says, and angles his head forward until their lips meet.

Jinki could wax poetic about this moment, could say that they fit together perfectly, could compose an ode to the taste and feel of Jonghyun's tongue in his mouth. But really, most of it's a blur. Somehow, they end up tangled together beneath Jonghyun's covers, Jinki's pajama pants discarded and Jonghyun's erection rutting against the front of his underwear. Somehow, Jinki's fingers end up fisted around Jonghyun's cock, stroking tightly until he cries out and comes, swearing and bucking his hips. Somehow, after that, Jonghyun regains his breath and says, "I'll blow you."

"You don't have to – "

"No, I do." Jonghyun's face is red, his hair mussed, his shirt long discarded and his chest gleaming. When he takes Jinki's cock into his mouth, Jinki nearly passes out.

"Oh my god," he moans. Jonghyun's lips are stretched around the shaft, his tongue flat against the head. "Oh my _god_ – "

Jinki comes and Jonghyun swallows, licking his lips and smirking a little. 

"Yum," he says.

"Oh my god," Jinki mumbles. Drained, he sinks into Jonghyun's bedding, closing his eyes drowsily.

"I thought we were gonna do it," Jonghyun is saying. "Like, all the way."

"Tomorrow," Jinki says. "Too tired."

He thinks he hears Jonghyun sigh.

"Okay, old man."

Nestled together, skin touching, breathing aligned, they sleep.

 

 

When Jonghyun and Jinki begin sleeping together, it's unsettling how little of their daily routine changes. Truth be told, other than the fact that Jonghyun spends more nights in Jinki's bed than his own, Jinki can't think of a single significant change off the top of his head. 

Well. Aside from the fact that he's gonna be totally fucked when this all falls apart.


End file.
